


The One In Front of Me

by AngeDeLumiere



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeDeLumiere/pseuds/AngeDeLumiere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akihito could not save every life in the world, no matter how hard he tried. But he could save this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One In Front of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd but it will be. I'm posting it now because I'll be away from my computer for a few days. The family got some bad news, and we're trying to rally around each other. 
> 
> As you all know, I am a huge animal lover, much more so a people lover. This story is dedicated to Cecil the Lion, who I saw on film but never in real life. It's also for his brother, Jericho who is still living and watching out for his little nephews! 
> 
> I don't own anything. No real life names were used except for Cecil. 
> 
> Enjoy

The One In Front of Me

He wasn’t sure how it happened, or what he had been doing. He had heard the saying that on important, life changing events, you were supposed to remember everything with high definition clarity. But he didn’t. He didn’t remember what he had been drinking, or why he was pottering around the kitchen. He did have the tv on, and his phone in his hand when the news bulletin broke. 

BELOVED LION FOUND DEAD IN ZIMBABWE 

His phone slipped form his hand, but Akihito didn’t even feel it. He didn’t hear the screen shatter on the tile, because the story was too loud. “No,” he whispered, though later he would not remember it. “No.” No. No. No…no…

Cecil the Lion was dead. The photographer made his way over to the couch, his mouth dragging on the floor. He remembered that lion from the safari he went on with his dad, almost ten years ago. Dad had earned a giant bonus that year, and seeing the lions was on his bucket list. Akihito had been sixteen. 

That was a long life for a lion, but it felt like the blink of an eye to the blond. He had not though about the lion in years, and probably would not have if not for the broadcast. A rush of warm memories flood him, and the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes were mournfully fond. Dad was ecstatic to see the black rhinos, the mighty lions with their wild manes and the zebras that were white and black but not read all over. 

The tears fell quickly, but happy was replaced by disbelief. Horror. Rage. The beloved lion hadn’t died of old age or natural selection. He had been tricked, lured out of the safety of the sanctuary. Mislead. Poached. Hunted to exhaustion and then murdered by an American asshole with a god complex. A doctor who obviously had no regard for the sanctity of life. 

The blond could not tear himself from the television. His eyes grew wider and the tears flowed more freely as he absorbed every detail, etching it into his memory. The purveyor of pain and misery, the dentist––the word left a putrid taste in his mouth––had wounded Cecil with a bow and arrow. After tracking him, herding him for forty hours, the majestic lion’s life was ended with a single bullet. The king of beasts was not even afforded a dignified death. His carcass was beheaded and skinned: a perfect trophy for the wall of a waiting room. 

The thought of it made his stomach heave. Had he eaten anything, Akihito would have upchucked all over the floor. He wasn’t really sure how long he sat there, transfixed by the horror. It was a news channel, with no regimented programming to segment the hours. He could only stare…

…and stare…

…and stare in revulsion and disbelief. It seemed to surreal, so utterly impossible. Not  
Cecil. Not the strong, powerful creature in his memories that ruled the grasslands. The crying faces, the irate protesters with slurring signs and the memorial of plush animals spoke truer than any reporter. Cecil was dead. 

When the coverage shifted seamlessly to a mall accident in China, Akihito turned the tv off. He had had enough death and despair for one day. Standing, he listlessly walked towards the bedroom, seeking solace under the sheets. There he could cry, bury his face in a pillow and hide beneath the covers. Pain could not find him nor could the world judge him if neither could see him. 

His fingers trailed down the doorframe a a strangled, choked gasp bubbled in his throat. Oh God. he had forgotten––hadn’t thought––realized–––

The black fur thrown over the bed was soft and plush, and was the same jet black as the telltale streaks in Cecil’s mane. He had never given the throw much thought until then. It had come from a living creature: one that felt hunger. Fear. Pain. Had Asami hunted it, killing it for sport? Did he do it often? Did he like it?

Akihito’s shoulders jerked and suddenly he was retching. Bile splattered on the pristine wood, but he couldn’t see it. Blinking out the tears that clouded his vision, the blond ran out of the penthouse, barefoot and in his pajamas. No cell phone. No guards. Just Akihito and his crying memories. 

***

It was blistering hot out. It was later July, and he could see the heat as it rose off the black asphalt in curlicues. Sweat plastered his hair to the back of his neck, his thin shirt clung to his chest. He was dying from the oppressive heat, and was unconsciously glad that he was only in his cotton pajamas and not his jeans. He would have had a heatstroke then. No one gave his outfit a second glance. It was downtown Shinjuku, and people were dressed more flamboyantly than Spongebob pjs. 

At least the heat masked his red face, flushed from the temperature and not sadness. It was sweat rolling down his cheeks, not tears. His eyes weren’t swollen. The sun was too bright, forcing him to squint if he wanted to see anything. Fuck, Akihito viciously rubbed his face, searching for any comforting contact, he would give anything to stop thinking about that stupid lion. 

That was when a pitiful whimper caught his attention. The photographer was standing alone on a burning side street. Huge apartment buildings lined the sidewalk across from him, and a mall was behind him. The car was shiny black, large and so expensive looking that Asami would have been impressed. The windows were tinted black, and were cracked ever so slightly––just enough for a small paw to squeeze out. 

“Shit!” the blond pressed his face to the blacked out glass. He could barely see inches into the car, but he clearly saw a dog. The pitiful creature cried, panting hard as it fought to breathe. Fought to cool down. It’s sad, saggy eyes locked with Akihito’s hazel ones, and the photographer saw it plainly. It plead with Akihito to help it. 

Fingers slipping into the crack, he tried to pull the window down. He grunted and strained, pulling with all of his might. The dog licked his fingers, desperate for any moisture to satiate its burning throat, even sweat. The damn window as well made. It didn’t budge. 

“Damn it,” he swore. 

“Hey you!” Two men jogged put to him. “Is this your car?” demanded the one with salt and pepper hair. 

Akihito snorted. “There’s a dog trapped inside,” he pointed to the window, not bothering to answer the idiotic question. He was wearing Spongebob pajama pants, for fuck’s sake! He wasn’t driving a Bentley!

“We know,” the guy pulled out a water bottle. “Keep paging the owner,” he instructed a portly security guard with tape on his glasses. 

“Right,” the breathless man tottered back into the mall. 

“Here you go, sweetheart,” the man unscrewed the cap. Holding the bottle up to the crack, he poured it down the window and onto the blistering leather seats. “Drink up.”

The dog did not need to be told twice. It––she lapped it up greedily. 

“My name is Ikoma,” the middle aged man said to Akihito. He glanced up at the lad whom he considered to be another good Samaritan and animal lover. 

“Takaba,” the photographer raked his sweat soaked hair away from his face. 

“She’s been in there for at least an hour,” Ikoma told him. “I first saw her when I ran in to get my wife’s bunion cream.”

Eww, TMI. “That’s a really long time,” Akihito did not bother to keep the panic out of his voice. The three o’clock sun beat down heavy on him, soaking him in sweat and boiling his blood. He could actually see the saline droplets pool on his forearm. He could only imagine how the dog was feeling. “She’s dying.”

The dog had already finished the water. Its paws pressed against the window as it begged for salvation. The little taste of water, of coolness, was tantalizing but only emphasized the direness of her situation. “I know,” Ikoma tired pulling the window down too. “I’ve been looking for her owner, but no one is claiming her. Mall security is checking the stores individually now.”

“That’s going to take forever,” Akihito dismayed. 

Ikoma sighed. “I know. But I don’t know what else to do.”

The dog’s paws peeped out of the window. The hair was shiny and soft, a glistening golden brown. It kept crying. Anger bubbled suddenly in Akihito’s heart. He had had enough of the pain and death, so slow and agonizing. He might not have been able to save Cecil, but dammit, he could save the dog. 

“I do,” he declared. “Stay where you are,” he told Ikoma. 

“What are you going to do?” Ikoma asked even though he knew the moment the photographer stepped into the street. 

“Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” the piping hot asphalt burned his tender feet. His voice was louder, more firm as he instructed Ikoma. “I’m going to break the glass and pop the lock. You get her out on that side.” 

“This is illegal,” was the man’s feeble protest as Akihito drew his elbow back. 

“I don’t fucking care,” was his vicious snarl and for a brief moment, he sounded like Cecil. Anger gave him strength and desperation fueled his arm. The glass shattered around his pointy elbow, slicing his soft skin but he did not feel it. The small dog shrieked in terror and as Ikoma cooed soothing words through the crack, Akihito popped the lock. 

The moment the mechanism clicked open, the man was ripping the door open. If a dog could sob in relief, this dog would have. Though it did not know Ikoma, it curled into his chest, collapsing into the kind arms as she gulped down fresh air. Dogs cooled themselves by panting, and this girl was huffing for all her worth, pink tongue hanging as far as it would extend. 

“Good girl, good girl,” Ikoma sat on the sidewalk, careless of pressed suit. “Slow, deep breaths sweetheart. That’s it. That’s it.”

“She’s okay,” Akihito sighed in relief as he hurried back to the not so hot sidewalk. “Do you have anymore water? She looks like she is still thirsty.”

“Thanks to you,” Ikoma looked up the boy, grinning thankfully. “That was something else, kid. Here you go, sweetheart,” Ikoma tipped the water bottle down enough for the dog to get her tongue inside the rim. 

Akihito shrugged. He pressed a hand to his rent flesh, trying to stop the trickling blood. The cuts were not deep. “It was nothing. I just can’t believe someone wold leave her locked up like that.”

“People do it all the time,” the man sighed. “They don’t realize how quickly it can hurt these little guys. Dogs can have a stroke in as little as ten minutes if it is hot enough.” 

Akihito blanched as he crouched down to scratch behind her ears. “Geez. I didn’t know that.”

Ikoma gave him a sardonic look. “Most people are woefully ignorant on the subject.”

“What is going on here?” an adenoidal voice shrieked. 

Both men looked up to see a woman stuffed into a blue dress like a cased sausage waddle up. “Momo! What are you doing with my dog?” she demanded. Mall security––three of them––were with her. 

“You locked your dog in your car,” Ikoma responded coldly. “She almost died.”

Akihito expected tears of gratitude and remorse. He wanted a sobbing confession and an oath before the world that she would not do it again. Instead, the woman pulled herself up to her infinitesimal height and screamed in self-righteous anger. “How dare you! You break into my car! Steal my dog! What do you think gives you there might to touch my property! You thieves! Criminals! Call the police,” she whirled on mall security, sausage face turning puce. “I want to press charges!”

“Maybe you didn’t hear him correctly,” Akihito stood. Pulling his shoulders back, he looked down at the entitled woman in a pearl choker. “You dog was dying. Because of you.”

“Poppycock,” the woman sniffed theatrically. “You’re exaggerating, I should think. And who pray tell, are you?”

The dog, little Miss Momo, lifted her head off of Ikoma’s chest. She greeted her mommy with a pitiful yip and a wag of her tail. Ikoma smiled, despite the sourpuss’s ungrateful attitude. “Did you miss your mommy?” he whispered baby talk in her pointed ear. 

“She's a dog not an infant,” the pudgy woman yanked the dog out of his arms. “And she doesn’t like strangers.” 

“She probably doesn’t like hot cars either,” Akihito snapped. He folded his arms across his chest as he glowered at the socialite who petted her still overheated dog like she was the vicim in all of this, and not the animal. 

“What I do with my animal is none of your business,” she snapped. 

“The authorities are on their way, ma’am,” a man in a navy suit lowered his cellphone. Up until that point, Akihito had not seen him. Almost ninja-like, he was good at hiding in the shadows until needed. Suoh was good at that, too. 

She sniffed, “Good. Keep these two here until the police arrive.”

Grabbing Ikoma’s outstretched hand, Akihito pulled him up while he stuttered in disbelief. “You can’t keep us here. You don’t have that kind of authority.” The blond danced out of the grasp of the man in the navy suit. His compatriot, donning a gray suit, grabbed Ikoma’s arm. 

“You obviously don’t know who I am,” she sneered. 

“You obviously think I care,” the boy stepped into the street. Ikoma struggled futilely against the man’s grasp. Dark eyes plead with Akihito to turn, to save himself, but the thought of abandoning his partner in crime made Akihito cringe. He would not desert Ikoma now that the stodgy lady threatened them. 

“I am Konoe Ran, wife of the Minister of Transport Konoe Daichi,” she looked extremely pleased to announce this fact. Her chest swelled, and she straightened her shoulders, holding herself proudly and pompously as a cat would. 

“Takaba Akihito, reporter,” the blond sneered over pointy teeth. The woman’s eyes widened infinitesimally as the implications sunk in. This young upstart journalist could pen slanderous stories about Konoe Ran, and how she treated her animals. It wasn’t a political scandal, but animal lovers could vote for other candidates and policies, ruining her husband’s career and thus her social standing. Take that, bitch. 

“I’m pressing charges for destruction of personal property, attempted burglary and assaulting my family,” Konoe threatened him. “I’ll put you away for years.”

Years? More than likely, he would be fined or spend a few months in jail, if Asami let it come to that. Even if his lover did not intervene, he refused to let this lady stop the press. Abandoning an animal in a hot car was criminally negligent as far as he was concerned, and it was high time somebody put a stop to it. 

“You don’t deserve to have a dog,” Ikoma tried to break free of the suit’s grasp. He had no more muscle on him than Akihito, so all he did was struggle futilely. 

“I love my Momo. She goes everywhere with me, and has the best doggie life money can buy. She wants for nothing!” Konoe rubbed her cheek against Momo’s fur. 

“You might love her, but you don’t care if you are jeopardizing her safety!” the middle age man retorted. 

“She obviously doesn’t go shopping with you!” Akihito yelled over Ikoma. He gestured to the shopping backs that Konoe had dropped on the ground. They were stuffed to the brim, filled with ultra expensive stuff. Things that only women bought––pink, frilly and fragranced with roses. 

Konoe gasped. “How dare you! The both of you!” her beady eyes were swollen. “She was perfectly fine in the car!”

“She was fucking miserable!” propriety and bodyguards forgotten, Akihito screamed at Konoe Ran. Bending low, he pressed his face against hers, nose to nose as he ranted. “Let’s lock you in the car for an hour and see how you feel! I’m sure you’ve got a nice, authentic fur coat that you can slip on––just so you might get an idea of how Momo felt in that heat!”

“I am a human being, boy!” the woman was not afraid to dish out the vitriol. She pressed right back against the photographer, forcing him to take a step back. 

“If you can’t stand it, how do you think a dog would feel?” the blond gritted his teeth. “She might not speak, but she feels pain and fear, just like you and I do! She was scared and hurting, while you went shopping for fucking underwear!”

Eyes wild, and pupils constricted, Konoe Ran reeled back her arm. She slapped him so hard that he spit blood. Akihito staggered two steps back. It was just far enough for the bodyguards to jump him. All three fell on the hot cement in a heap of tangled limbs, all fighting and trying to get the other two off. Loyal as a dog, Ikoma grabbed Akihito by the shirt and tried to pull him out of the mess. Unfortunately, he had not gotten any stronger in the past five minutes, and he too was pulled under. 

That was when the cops showed up. 

***

For all his talk and bravado, Akihito really was not built for jail. He jumped at loud noises, danced away from lecherous fingers and forgot how to speak when a junkie offered him “a good deal on some little crystals”. And that was just the holding cells. 

Unsurprisingly, the cops had sided with Konoe. Maybe it was because of her family name, her husband’s status, or the family could have been bribing the force. It might also have been because Akihito admitted freely that he was the one that broke the window. It could have been any reason. 

Nonetheless, he was stuck making a phone call to Sion’s bar. Asami was the only person with the clout to get both him and Ikoma out jail, but he was not in his office. He was supposed to be hosting a business associate for an early dinner at Sion. The photographer knew that his lover’s phone would be off as a courtesy, but the bartender, who knew Akihito by name and voice, could relay a message. Akihito could hear the disbelief in the man’s voice as he relayed the story. Poor guy. Telling Asami that his lover had gotten himself arrested was the last thing anyone wanted to do. As he hung up the phone, Akihito was a bit glad that he wasn’t the one to break the news to the fixer. 

Until then, he could only sit and twiddle his thumbs as he waited for his lover to show up. Assuming he did show up. 

In the far corner of the police station, he could see the socialite recounting her version of events to two detectives with sympathetic looks. She was hanging them out to dry, undoubtedly playing victim to the men. Arms folded, he huffed. Occasionally she would viciously jab her finger in Akihito’s direction, and the detectives would nod understandingly. Akihito settled in to wait. 

***

Kirishima said nothing as he followed Asami down the stairs. Club Sion only had two floors, and taking the stairs was quicker than a ride in the elevator. Not that time was of the essence. Takaba could not die while in police custody. Still, Asami wasted no time in retrieving his wayward lover. 

Kirishima knew the moment the bartender dared approach the table at which the two crime lords dined, his knees quaking like a colt’s, that Asami was not going to be happy. He did not like to be disturbed during business, so it was likely the poor boy would be fired or disemboweled if he heard the wrong thing. Grabbing the crisp white paper out of his quivering hand, Asami’s eyes flicked over the scrawled note. 

He slammed the note onto the table mere seconds after receiving it. The china plates rattled against the silverware. Hashimoto Toshiro dropped his mouth as the fixer stood without a word. His golden eyes were molten lava, furious and Kirishima knew then that hell was coming to Tokyo. He snapped his fingers at his best men as he quickly left the room, linen tablecloth billowing in his wake. 

“What happened?” he asked as he opened the door to the back alley. The car was parked in the garage beneath Sion, but Suoh would have it waiting in the alleyway. It had the easiest street access. 

“Akihito has been arrested for attempted burglary and threatening Konoe Ran,” the fixer’s growl rumbled deep in his chest. “Scat!” he kicked his shoe at a small cat that was sniffing around the dumpster. 

“Oh,” Kirishima didn’t have much else to say. In fact, he was thankful that Asami kept the partition up during the drive to the police station. At least he could talk to Suoh and not feel like a wrecking ball had collided with his ribs. 

***

“I called my wife, and let her know what happened,” Ikoma ran his hands over his thighs as he tried to stay calm. His eyes were closed, his head resting against the cement wall. “She is going to try to scrounge up enough bail for the both of us.” He did not sound the least bit hopeful that they could afford to get him out of jail, let alone a relative stranger. At least he was trying, and Akihito appreciated it. 

“It’s okay. I’ve called my friend. He’ll get us both out,” he tried to sound confident. He was one hundred percent certain that Asami would save Ikoma. It might take some take some sexual bribery, but the fixer would come through in the end. 

By now, the police chief had joined Konoe’s entourage, his face solemn. The photographer huffed loudly. It was pretty clear which way the pendulum was swinging. 

“Don’t worry,” Ikoma did not actually look at him. “It’s all going to work out. I mean, she really can’t have us thrown in jail because of a window. Right?”

Akihito was beginning to think that she could. Matters like these were more about political connections than the actual law. It had been over an hour, and no Asami in sight. Maybe the bartender didn’t believe his story. Maybe he could not find Asami. A million things could have happened to keep the fixer from rushing to the police station. Whatever it was, Akihito was pretty sure that he was going to be royally screwed for doing the right thing. In times like these, he had always appreciated Asami’s clout. The fixer had enough sway to get Akihito out of trouble, or anyone else in it. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, Akihito couldn’t help be see how grossly unfair it was. The law wasn’t supposed to be buyable, but rather an intrinsic system that no man was above. 

The double doors that lead into the main station burst open, making papers fly into the air. A hush fall over the entire room. Asami Ryuichi stood imperiously, cutting a fine figure in his black suit. Kirishima and Suoh flanked his sides, both looking as displeased as their boss. There were more men, but Akihito did not know them. A poor intern did not know who Asami was, and he quickly rushed over to the fixer with a cursory bob of his head. “What can I help you with?” he was asking. 

It was almost comical, the way the police chief ran in a full out sprint cross the room, his arms outstretched. Grabbing his confused intern, he quickly spun the lackey away, shoving him as hard as he could. “I… ah… I’m sorry, Asami-san,” he bowed. As he straightened, the balding man tried to smooth his rumbled shirt. “Sojiro, he’s new here. And––“ the man gulped, very aware that Asami did not care about the nuances of his staff. “How may I assist you today?”

Konoe Ran smiled as she locked eyes with the fixer. Asami Ryuichi was a contributor to her husband’s campaign. As such, Daichi was careful to facilitate the man’s more lucrative business ventures, and smooth out any legislature that Asami needed to be passed. She was sure that the man was there to offer his specialized help with the little rodents that threatened her. 

“I’m here to bail out Takaba Akihito,” he declared loudly. 

The chief’s eyes widened, pupils dilating as his mouth dropped open. The rest of the room looked just as aghast. Konoe Ran gasped loudly. She pressed her hand to her throat, as if feeling for the pulse she was sure had stopped. “Takaba Akihito?” the chief finally stuttered. 

Asami looked down at the much shorter man. “Yes. Where is he?”

“Over there,” the man’s voice shook as he pointed to the detention cells. All suspects waited there until they were arraigned or bailed out. 

Asami brushed past the still stunned man, heading straight for Akihito. Gold eyes locked with hazel, and Akihito suddenly felt like a toddler that had been put in timeout. Asami looked disappointed as well as angry, as if asking why Akihito could not behave for just one day. The photographer flushed, and ducked his head. 

“Akihito,” Asami stopped in front of the metal bars. Akihito got an eyeful of his shoes. “Look at me?” The blond’s hands flexed around the bars, searching for any strength, any will or courage as he reluctantly lifted his eyes to look once more at his lover. “Are you all right?”

He was asking about the bruise on Akihito’s face, and faint remnants of blood. 

“Yeah,” Akihito replied “Just fine.”

“Is it true that you threatened to harm Konoe Ran?” Asami asked him. 

“I told her that if it wasn’t a big deal to lock her dog in a car for a couple of hours, that she should sit in the car for just as long,” he shrugged. It was not like he assaulted her. Just gave her some bitter medicine to think about. 

Asami arched an eyebrow. “You did?” 

Others who did not know the man well would not have heard the mirth that laced his words. But Akihito did. “Yeah,” Akihito lightly chuckled. “I did. If it isn’t dangerous like she claims, she would be fine.”

Asami nodded. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

Akihito reached through the bars to grab Asami’s sleeve. “Asami,” he said lowly. “Ikoma is in here, too. He’s with me, and didn’t do anything wrong. But…” he didn’t know how to say that the man’s family was on a budget, and could not afford the outrageous bail. Especially since the man’s wife was trying to scrounge up enough money to get them both out. 

Asami understood without Akihito having to say anything. “It will be taken care of,” he promised lowly. 

Akihito’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thanks,” he smiled at his lover. 

Asami nodded curtly. Walking over to the police chief, he pulled out his wallet. “I will be bailing out Takaba, as well as his accomplice Ikoma.” 

“Asami-san,” the man stuttered, even as his secretary quickly shuffled through papers, looking for a total. They were not usually the ones who handled the actual procedures of bail. “They attempted to rob Konoe Ran! They threatened her!”

“That isn’t what Akihito thinks happened,” Asami pulled out cash. “How much do I owe?”

“You are supposed to support my husband!” Konoe cried in disbelief. Her face was scrunched, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows knitted together. “You should be on my side!”

“The boy that you struck is with me,” Asami said dismissively. “I will be contacting your husband later to discuss the ramifications of today’s events. At the moment, I am frustrated and want to leave. So Chief Takenouchi,” he addressed the shaking man. “What can I do to expedite this process?”

***

“Thanks,” Akihito said again once they were in the limo. Ikoma’s wife had come running in just as the papers were finished. Konoe Ran had been furious, but Ikoma Noemi cried tears of joy. The husband and wife thanked Asami profusely as they shook his hand, promising to cook him one helluva dinner. The fixer smiled politely, and though he did not refuse the dinner invitation, Akihito knew that it would never be mentioned again. 

“I will always come get you,” Asami answered disinterestedly. He was reading a stack of papers that Kirishima had pulled from a briefcase. He did not speak, only replying if Akihito spoke first, silently made notes on the documents. 

When he first broke the window, Akihito had felt justified. Vindicated. Right. Asami’s unconcerned attitude made him feel foolish, like he had acted rashly. The righteous anger that had coursed through his veins simmered and cooled. He wished he knew what Asami thought about the whole thing.

“Hn,” Akihito shrugged his shoulders. He expected the fixer to be furious. To shout at him, call him stupid, maybe fuck him senseless. This cold indifference that Asami emitted made Akihito more uncomfortable than anything else. It was as if he were a burden, something that only caused the man trouble. Asami had had to rescue him twice from Feilong, and once from the Russians. When the Americans broke into the condo in an attempt to assassinate Asami, the fixer still thought to get Akihito out rather than save his own butt. “Sorry for pulling you away from your business meeting.”

Asami turned a page. “It was nothing that I can’t finish now,” the fixer licked the tip of his pen. 

Asami should still be at work. Guilt ransacked his gut. It was his fault that the fixer had to leave in the first place. He was gone enough as it was, which Akihito did not like, and now he would have to stay at the office later. The photographer knew when to shut up. Asami needed silence in which to work. Akihito could at least give him that. 

***

The sun was starting to set in the distance, and the dark clouds that loomed overhead foretold of a brewing storm. He rubbed his wrists. They felt raw, even though he had not been handcuffed for more than a half hour. And that was hours ago. He had been surprised when Asami followed him up to the penthouse. After all, the man still had work to do. 

“You don’t have to walk me up,” Akihito snapped, churlish after the tumultuous day. “I can make it up there just fine by myself.”

“Considering how I live there too, it makes sense that I would share an elevator,” Asami said while he shut the door. Kirishima’s window was rolled down. Akihito stood a few feet away, hands in his pajama pockets as he pretended not to listen. He watched Asami lean against the window frame, his face close to his subordinate’s. “Schedule meeting with both Konoe Daichi and his wife tomorrow. And talk to mall security. I want to know exactly what happened.” 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” Kirishima glanced at Akihito before he rolled he window up. The secretary almost looked…proud. Akihito’s stomach flip flopped. What was the about?

“What do you want with the Konoes?” he asked when the elevator doors slid shut. 

Asami reached for his tie, as if to loosen it, but then seemed to remember that they were not in the privacy of their home. His hand dropped to his side. “Konoe Daichi is an important associate of mine. I need to ensure that there are no lasting ramifications from today.”

Great. That had not even entered his mind. He thought the woman was just another vapid socialite. Now he knew she was a vapid socialite with connections. And he had just made life harder for Asami. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

“Trouble?” Asami unlocked the door and motioned for Akihito to step inside first. “The Konoes are the ones in trouble. Not me.”

Akihito waited while Asami stepped out of his shoes. “What do you mean?” They weren’t the ones with a looming arrest record. He had been in trouble with the law when he was a kid, but not of it amounted to any jail time. If he was honest with himself, Akihito was more afraid of disappointing Asami, and suffering his wrath. The fixer was much worse than his parents could ever hope to be. 

Asami pulled his tie off with one motion. Gold eyes narrowed as he looked at Akihito. “I’m not upset with you. Only the Konoes. I told you once that I would erase anyone who touched. No matter who. Konoe Ran will have to deal with the consequences of her actions.”

“But…but,” the photographer stuttered. “No.” That was not supposed to happen. Asami was anger. Fire. Passion. Rage. Akihito was not prepared for him to be sympathetic and understanding. 

Asami’s fingers gently tipped the photographer’s chin up. His gaze locked on the purple bruise that covered half of the boy’s face. It contrasted vividly with the sun burned skin that covered him. Akihito’s feet were blistered, his body burned. Undoubtedly, he was dehydrated too. The day in the sun had taken its toll on him, and the fixer wondered if the sun had caused Akihito to act rashly. “Why not? I don’t renege on my promises, Akihito. Konoe will pay for striking you.”

“No!”Akihito grabbed Asami’s arm as he turned around. Asami looked over his shoulder his forehead wrinkled. “Please, don’t hurt her. There’s been enough pain for today.”

The fixer did not bother to hide his incredulousness. “What are you talking about?” he dismissed Konoe Ran entirely. “Did something else happen that I am not aware of?”

Akihito dodged the question. “I broke her car window. I said that she should be arrested for attempted doggie murder! And then I told her she didn’t need to be buying panties when her dog was dying in the car! I get why she was angry.”

Asami immediately saw that his Akihito was avoiding the question. He knew that the photographer was a sensitive soul, that he deeply empathized with all living creatures. It was so like him to worry about a dog, to break a window and risk bodily harm to save a mutt. That was why he was not angry about him getting arrested. It was preferable to him landing in the hospital after chasing down the wrong lead. Asami could make an arrest record vanish, but physical maladies were beyond his control. 

What worried him was the catalyst for the break in. Tears clouded the boy’s hazel eyes, and he looked away from his lover. Konoe Ran and her dog forgotten, Asami wrapped his arms around Akihito’s waist. “What happened today, Akihito? Answer me.”

Akihito brusquely wiped a tear off his cheek. “Eight years ago, my dad and I went to Zimbabwe on Safari. We saw all of these amazing animals, and took all of the amazing pictures.” 

He was still talking but the moment Akihito said Zimbabwe, Asami knew. The underworld was atwitter with the poaching. Most of the underworld was pissed, but not because they were animal lovers. Zimbabwe was a country ripe with profitable animals for the picking, and the American brought it into the spotlight. Gregor Braun was a Belgian ivory trader who put up a bounty on the American’s head. Asami had little to do with animals, even the ones with ivory. He would not have given the dead cat a second thought if Akihito did not burst into tears as he finished his story. 

“I can’t fix this,” Asami crushed Akihito’s head to his chest. He stroked the soft, blond hair, and his other hand rested in the swell of Akihito’s back. The material of his shirt began sticking to his chest as it was soaked with the photographer’s tears. He was suddenly angry on the lion’s behalf, upset that Akihito was distraught and furious with the poachers. “I can’t bring him back to life.”

“I know,” Akihito sniffed loudly. “But it’s not fair. He was a dad, and he wasn’t doing anything to hurt anyone! He was supposed to be safe! And they! They! They were so cruel to him!” 

Asami was aware of the circumstances of the lion’s demise, more so than Akihito. “What do you want me to do?” he pressed tender kisses on the top of the messy blond mop in an attempt to comfort his smaller lover. “Save the park? Get them a new lion? I can avenge Cecil for you.”

“Avenge?” Akihito pulled his head off his lover’s broad chest. He did not want vengeance, but that word reverberated in his mind. He was not entirely sure what Asami meant by that. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“There are men looking for him as we speak. Men like me,” Asami said delicately. He did not want to alarm the boy, yet keep him aware of his options. Asami purposefully kept Akihito on the edge of his world, shielded from the unmitigated evil that it was. The boy did not need to know more than what the fixer deigned to share. “I can aide them in their search. I could inflict Cecil’s death on him tenfold.”

Akihito jerked out of Asami’s hold. “No!” he held his hands aloft, as if he were going to fight Asami to keep him back. “No! No!” His breath was quick, his eyes wide. “No more death! No more pain! I don’t want anyone else to suffer!”

“All right,” Asami whispered placatingly. “I won’t help Braun find him.” He gestured to the boy, opening his arms wide. He wanted Akihito to come back into his arms. Even when the boy was furious, Asami felt empty when he was not by his side. 

“Stop Braun! If you want make me feel better, promise me that no one else will die! Death might not bother you, but I hate it!” 

Asami stopped short. “You would want this killer to live? Even though he has hurt you and Cecil’s pride?” 

“I don’t want anyone else to die,” Akihito confessed. Dropping his head back, his grabbed fistfuls of his hair. “Not if I can stop it! I couldn’t save Cecil! And I can’t save his cubs, even though I want to! But I could save Momo! And I can save the American. I’m responsible for the lives in front of me, and I have to do whatever I can to protect them! I have to!” 

The fixer’s mouth quirked. He thought he was slowly getting to the bottom of Akihito’s day. Cecil’s death made him confront his own mortality, and how powerless he was against life’s enemy. His love, his anger, his passion––none of it could prolong a life, or bring the dead back. But if he had the power to save one life, even if belonged to a worthless coward, he would. He would fight for that life with all of his heart. He had done it for Konoe’s dog, Momo. And if he was honest with himself, Asami knew that it was because of that generous sanctity for life that Akihito was able to love him. Most people would not be able to look past his career and his own callousness for life. But Akihito could. Akihito did.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Asami promised sincerely. 

“Thank you!” the blond rushed into his arms. “Thank you, thank you!” he nuzzled Asami’s chest like a cat, cheek pressing into the damp tear stains. 

“Always,” Asami swore. His boy would do anything for life, because he considered it precious. Akihito was precious to Asami, and the fixer would do whatever he could to keep the boy vivacious and smiling. Even spare the life of a man that he did not think deserved it. 

“And the fur throw? The one on the bed?” Akihito dared ask. He looked up at Asami’s strong face as his chin pressed into his sternum. “Where idid it come from?”

“It’s a family heirloom,” Asami brushed golden flyaway off the boy’s cheek. “My grandfather gave it to my grandmother after their first son was born.” 

It came from an animal, but he could live with that. It was important to Asami, and he doubted that the creature had suffered needlessly. Akihito gripped his lover tightly, thankful that such a callous man could be so tender and caring. 

***

The next day, Asami was walking down the same stairs. Instead of going to the police station, he was going to lunch with the Konoes. Konoe Daichi had already called him, assuring him that the charges were going to be dropped against both Akihito and Ikoma. Still, Asami needed the Transport Minister on his side during the upcoming election. He wanted them to know that there were no hard feelings as long as Konoe Ran swore to not leave her dog in the car again. 

The fixer stopped suddenly when he heard a clang near the rubbish bins. 

“Asami-sama?” Suoh asked. He actually bumped into the fixer, forcing him to take a step forward. The car was a few feet away, engine on and ready to go. “The Konoes are waiting for you, sir,” he offered in lieu of an apology. 

The small kitten was back, batting around a crumbled can. It had sharp edges that glinted in the sunlight, like a jagged knife. It could cut its delicate paw pads if the kitten was not careful. Hazel, chatoyant eyes sparkled mischievously as it played, and Asami saw his lover personified by the feline. “Let them wait,” he said. 

Walking down to the trash can, he sunk down to one knee. Clicking his tongue, he held out his hand and rubbed his fingers together. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” he called lowly. 

Suoh and Kirishima were stunned into silence, but he paid them no mind. Akihito was spot on in when he said that death did not bother Asami. The fixer had come to terms with his own death long ago. Now that the photographer had entered his life, he was not prepared for Akihito’s eventual death––even if it was from old age. When he first saw the boy, Asami wanted to do everything in his power to keep him happy and breathing. It had not occurred to him at the time, but looking back, Asami immediately felt responsible for the boy. It was as if he alone could love, cherish and safeguard the chaotic photographer from the dangerous world. Akihito had been foisted upon him by a higher power, and Asami took his charge very seriously. No one else could take care of Akihito the way Asami Ryuichi could.

Akihito was right, though. No one could save everyone, but you were responsible for the lives in front of you. Scooping the curious kitten into his arms, Asami motioned to the car. The Konoes could wait. Flowers and a campaign donation would suffice for them. The little kitten would enthrall his lover. Asami could see it now, the boys’s face lighting up in jubilation as he tenderly cradled the small kitten. One Cecil might have left the world, but a new one was entering their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> It is the hottest part of the year, and in your car it only gets hotter. it is dangerous to leave children and animals in locked cars for extended periods of time. In some states, both are ILLEGAL, and if a Good Samaritan breaks into your car to rescue a child or animal, they are within their legal rights. For the safety and comfort of all animals, DO NOT LELAVE YOUR PETS IN A CAR FOR MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES!!!!!
> 
> If you see an animal locked in a car, your best bet is to call the non-emergency police line or animal control. They will advise you what your legal rights are, and how to proceed. Every life is precious, and we love our pets too much to ever put them through suffering. Please think and double check yours cars before you lock them. Even if it feels cool outside to you, the temper in a car rises quickly and the animals are wearing fur coats. 
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to PM or email me.


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